


Casual Freedom

by aspiring_simp



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiring_simp/pseuds/aspiring_simp
Summary: Arthur sets out into upper New Austin for a week. He encounters a stray dust storm and dodges it inside of a run-down church with a fellow traveller, who offers all kinds of trinkets to spend hard-earned money on. Before he gets past Pike’s Basin, he finds a crew of wild horses tailing him and Boadicea. All in all, our beloved outlaw meets some interesting situations in Hennigan’s Stead, and you get to experience it second-hand.(Set a month or two before the botched Blackwater job)
Kudos: 6





	1. Setting Out

**Author's Note:**

> this is what i imagine arthur does in his free time when the player isnt there. its before blackwater because i need the happy cowboy in my life rn (i finished chapter 6 not that long ago)

With a nod and a wave to Dutch, he gathered up Boadicea's reins and set off. Easy as that. 

With the lazy sway of his horse's walk, you could've never guessed he was setting himself up for a trip of almost a week. He wanted time to himself, and goddamn had he earned it. His elbow was still slightly creaking from chopping wood too enthusiastically the day before, and he'd just about huffed his last breath of air when he fell asleep after. Rest wasn't truly rest in the middle of a gang though, so he mustered up the willpower to ask Dutch for a week off. 

Now he was heading out onto the Great Plains and eventually past Thieves' Landing from Tuesday morning to Sunday night. Weirdly precise, as Dutch's rules often were nowadays; normally he could go out for a week at a time when activity was low in camp but now that he was working his ass off daily, he had to make sure even a day-long holiday was okay with the big guns. Dutch and Hosea's mutual thinking cap was working overtime, but Arthur didn't want to ask about it for fear of having to do the dirty work. The inescapable side effect, though, was that Dutch kept as close an eye on the gang as he could. If it was even just a few days longer, maybe he’d be going past the Upper Montana instead of lower. He’d overheard from a couple of visiting New Yorkers of the stunning valley up there. Full with purple lupin flowers and all the rest of it. 

Nevertheless, the desert was good enough for him, even though he wasn’t really venturing into the thicket. He knew Hennigan's stead well from the last few times the gang had ventured through, so a familiar setting would be a treat. 

The noon light sprinkled through gaps in the trees as he urged Boadicea into a brisk trot. She snorted and dipped her head to the ground, but loyally carried on. 

Their camp was on the very edge of the woods, so it didn’t take much longer than a few minutes for him to reach the Great plains. The dust puffed with every hoof-print left behind, but the heat wouldn’t come on until he was well past the Lower Montana river. It was still just about winter, after all; he supposed it was lucky that snow didn’t quite reach the Great Plains. 

He gave Boadicea a friendly slap on the neck and they rode south-bound on a wide road. From the slope he was going down, he could see over Stillwater creek. The fact that he remembered the uninteresting name was something of a miracle—he used to regularly camp near a Staywater creek and he’d mixed up the two names a few times already. “All them damn rodents, Boadi... ugh”, he grumbled. And for good reason. There really had been an unholy number of rats and muskrats around that creek. 

As he approached Stillwater, he saw that the same was true for this new one. When he saw the first rattlesnake, though, he chose to steer Boadicea well away from it before continuing on the wooden paths bridging over the creek’s waterways. She reacted with only a stomp and a slightly faster trot. 

His thoughts drifted along as he and Boadicea did. They reached a clear spot north of the budding MacFarlane ranch and he soon set up a light campfire with stray sticks, taking his time since it was only afternoon. He spent a good while patiently hunting a lean pronghorn and skinning it delicately. He took the meat back to his campfire after a short time and cooked half a steak. He cut most of the rest in thick strips and salted it all. He left it wrapped tightly in a cloth and stuffed it in his saddlebag before readying the rest of his campsite for an early night. He would’ve continued travelling if he could be bothered—he had plenty of time, anyway. Hell, he could stay in that same spot for the whole 6 days, not even passing Thieves' Landing, and the only one who’d be able to object to that was Boadicea. 

For about 15 minutes, he basked in the sun as his steak cooked thoroughly. Boadicea’s saddle was nestled under his head, so he kept one eye open under his lowered hat. 

He soon ate dinner and fell asleep comfortably beside the fire and under the darkening sky. The night was cold, but a light coat kept him warm enough. It was New Austin, after all.


	2. Light Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur properly starts the trip, figuring out the road on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short one, since i won't be able to write for the next week. i wanted to get something out so that i didn't lose motivation or something. enjoy this super short chapter lmao :)  
> when i get back, i might add onto it and make meatier paragraphs before working on another chapter (but that is definitely not a promise)
> 
> also happy new year

The morning brought squinty eyes and a thin film of dust all over Arthur’s body. As soon as he moved, he felt the sweat under his collar and made a face at it. He decided that, after eating the other half of the steak he cooked, he’d head to Thieves’ landing to see if the dopey bastards there had a hotel with a bath. With a yawn, he checked his map, just to make sure where he was going. In his just-woken state, he hadn't realized that he'd already been past it. It was for the best, though--he took it as fate telling him not to go there. So, he resolved to go west to the McFarlane ranch instead. They were civilized enough to have a bath, right? Surely, they would, he’d seen (stolen) plans for the new grocer going up somewhere there. 

As per usual, he packed up his things quickly but not hastily. A whole week to relax--He wouldn't be hurrying anything until he had to. Everything was packed on the horse in only a few minutes: his bedroll, his little tripod grill, Boadi’s saddle and saddlebags. The dying fire only needed a smother of dirt. He smoothly hoisted himself onto Boadicea’s back, rubbing the irritating dust on his neck. Her trot was a perfect mix of peppy and relaxed; it would make for a smooth trip to the farm. The sun hadn’t yet started to bake the earth, and a light breeze washed over the buttery yellow meadow. It was a perfect morning, especially with the thought of a bath wallowing in his mind. 

It took almost no time at all to reach the farm. It took even less time to find the small 2 room, one bath hotel. As if it could be called a hotel at all! It was more like an empty ranchers’ cabin, which it probably was. The hot water ran quickly—it soon was ready. He couldn't find it in him to complain much more than that. 

The water and bubbles cocooned him pleasantly as he sank into the bath. It was slightly too hot, but he forgot about that after he stayed in there for half an hour. Or, he thought it was around half an hour. He didn't bother with checking. Refreshed, he strolled out of the cabin with a contented sigh. Now it was time for travel. 

He swung into the saddle and Boadi wandered off on her own accord. He only had to tug the reins to the left or right every few minutes while he studied his map of Hennigan’s Stead. If he wanted to walk a direct road, he'd have to dip into Cholla Springs for the night, probably. Backtracking would work, but he just didn't find it to his liking. He could stay at Armadillo, but lord knew what kind of sin lay in the buildings there. Hell, what kind of sin lay in the residents? 

He knew vaguely where he'd go, but at least he now had a route to follow. Folding the map into his satchel, he laid his wrists on the saddle's horn and observed his passing surroundings. He hummed a little tune he'd heard Sean singing, content to finally be in open air with only his thoughts, the sky and the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i messed with it a bit and now it isn't half bad


	3. Old Man Gonzáles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His travel is disrupted just as it starts, but he could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't be the only one who sees Boadicea as a light-coloured horse, right? I imagine her as a flea-bitten mustang, specifically
> 
> also sorry for irregular chapter length and times lol but honestly this chapter was fun

Boadicea plodded along happily, leaving nothing but hoofprints and a puff of dust behind. Arthur had been due for a good week with just his own self and his reliable steed. There was only one road to follow since they split from all those messy tracks intertwining through each other. He let Boadicea roll at the speed she wanted while he let his boots hang outside the stirrups. His right arm flapped beside him, and his eyes were either on little lizards running past or simply Boadicea’s scruffy withers. 

Her white fur already had a film of yellowish dust from traveling for only half an hour at the least. The wind had picked up unexpectedly hard since they’d started off. The cool air still didn’t quite protect from the sun, unfortunately. At the very least, he felt dry and hot rather than sweaty and humid, which might’ve been a good thing. He wouldn’t be bathing for a time. 

“Aw Boadicea... I shoulda bought that poncho they was selling, huh?” He knew he didn’t sunburn as easily as, say, John or maybe even Dutch, but the feeling of being baked out of his own skin was almost enough to make him start having a conversation with his horse. 

Boadicea, unable to reply, dipped her head and threw the reins before continuing as usual. She did seem skittish as she walked with a tall neck, but he didn’t think anything of it since Boadicea was naturally a cautious horse. She picked up a trot down the wide road. He could see over the road into the cacti and dirty yellow desert bushes where it turned right. Soon, he’d be crossing the border from Hennigan’s Stead to Cholla Springs, but it wouldn’t be lasting long. He wouldn’t even visit Armadillo for more than a beer, if he was honest with himself. That town gave him a strange feeling. 

He brought out his map once more just to double-check. Its corner snapped back and forth when the wind started to whip. Remembering how often dust storms occurred, especially in New Austin, he thought twice and picked up the reins. Looking around for shelter in case it was a more serious storm, he spotted something. He could see a church in the distance, with Armadillo not far behind it. His nerves fraying, he urged Boadicea into a run, but didn’t let her gallop just yet. Turning off the road, he loosened the reins so she could skip over the rocks in the shortcut to the church. A large tumbling wave of dust approached steadily from the north. Already Boadicea had cantered half the way to the church, so he figured it wouldn’t take long at all. 

Her hooves thumped as she crashed through greenery, avoiding most cacti expertly. With thundering urgency, it took them no time at all to reach the destination. Arthur had seen the damage of a more disastrous dust storm before, and it had started almost exactly like the one about to meet them in Cholla Springs. He wouldn’t be wasting any time. 

She threw her head as he pulled her left and around the back of the church to where a lean grey horse was hitched inside a rickety hut. He dismounted while Boadicea was trotting and ran to tie the reins on a pole next to the thoroughbred. Still a bit skittish, she stomped and eyed the other horse warily, but she stayed loyally while Arthur jogged to get inside the church itself. He grabbed a saddlebag full of ammo and food on the way—just in case. 

He shouldered the church’s door open with a grunt and damn near slammed it shut behind him. Gripping the saddlebag in a fist, he took just a moment to rest his forehead on the door. No matter how many times he experienced a close call with a desert storm, it terrified him all the same. 

“Boy! What’s eating you, now? Look like ya seen a ghost, yep.” He whipped around, eyes landing on a old man standing by a grubby window down the far end of the church. He looked like the typical New Austin man—healthy enough for someone who looked past their prime time, but definitely had felt a fair share of tough work. 

“I bet you nearly got a storm up your guts, didn’t ya? Damn, you angry, you all armed to ya teeth.” 

The desert storm suddenly roared, forcing him to speak louder. It was a miracle that the windows didn’t break from the force. 

Arthur cleared his throat, figuring out if he was a friend or foe. “I ain’t no fool, if I’m down this country then I know to bring protection.” 

“Well don’t you worry now, I’m the fool who didn’t bring no protection. See?” He slipped off a boot, trying to prove he had no knife, and a thick knife clunked on the wood floor. “Ooh... now I didn’t even know that was there! Ha! Betcha I done that on purpose ‘cause I knew I'd forget everything else on my damn horse.” he went through the rest of his outfit after putting the boot back on—he really did only have a knife on him, and it looked more for carving wood than carving people. 

Arthur decided that this man had gone senile at 19 and was actually a ghost from the 1700s. Unless he was being tricked, who forgets a knife of that size in his boot? Who forgets some of the most important tools—weapons, especially—on his horse? 

“Everything else? What’s that mean?” 

“Everything that’s useful, I left behind. Like I said, I'm the fool. You wanna see what I did bring? Buncha useless crap when I ain’t got somebody to con. You wanna get ripped off, boy?” He wheezed out a laugh that shouldn’t have come from someone who looked only a few years older than Arthur himself. “Yeah, I'll rip you off for extra cheap, just for you, boy. We got that time to waste!” 

“Uh... sure, do I even get a choice?” The man was harmless enough, and was right too; they had time to waste and they’d be in it together. 

“Hey, what’s your name, young buck?” 

He considered lying, but chose not to. His name wasn’t known to be an outlaw’s one just yet, anyway. “Arthur Morgan. Yours?” 

The man dug around a backpack thicker than his torso while he grinned, “González! That’s me, Mr Arthur Morgan, I ain’t got no first name due to my innate ability to mind my own business.” 

“Huh. Interesting. You Mexican, then? Or at least South American?” 

They talked as such for quite some time while González pulled out wild and outright unrecognizable objects from his backpack. Arthur didn’t relax, but that was due to instinct rather than dislike of the man. In truth, he was just annoying, and annoying people weren’t that bad. He reminded him of a Mexican version of Uncle with a distinct accent of New Austin in voice and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have anything to say, could you please make a comment? i mean i only have like 59 hits as of right now but i'd really appreciate feedback or even just a hello lmao


	4. Waiting... waiting...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly like the title says. Waiting, waiting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took ages B) while writing the second half, I got stuck down an internet rabbit hole of Planet Zoo builds. Enjoy I guess, this one is shortish and boring because there’s nothing much that's supposed to be happening anyway. I’ve been gently phasing out of fanfics and more into my personal WIP which I left alone for just over a year so. This fic might be shortened a lot so that I don’t have to worry about it that much. idk i still really wanna write this cause i might not get more ideas for rdr2

“This thing, my pa gave it to me when I was a young one. ‘Round hundred or so years old, but never sold it. Been meaning to, but it ain’t worth much like it was. You see, there’s a golden age for everything I sell. This one been past it for some time. Like me, you know?” González laughed at that, a hearty wheeze that got a chuckle out of Arthur too. 

“I’m just a funny ole fool to ya, ain’t I?” He handed the old battered thing to him. 

“Yeah well, what’s it do?” Arthur studied it closely. “It doesn’t exactly look like much, no offense.” 

“Don’t apologize, I can see how ruined it is from a mile away.” 

“Sure, mister.” He soon noticed what it was, despite the thing’s age; a carving of a grizzly. He supposed it would’ve been well done back in its day. It felt solid enough and fit snug in his palm, but a shallow gap in its chest. “Hey old man, what’s this?” He showed it to González, who was packing some of the “That some sorta gemstone go in there?” 

“Ah, ain’t nothing. When it was given to me, it had nothing in it so I didn’t bother lookin’ for something to fix it. Boy, that thing is old, though.” 

“No doubt...” Arthur passed the carving back with a nod of thanks. The more stuff that Gonzalez brought out, the more curious he got. He’d already swapped a few dollars for a useless dirty antique revolver he thought was interesting. 

While the old man fished around in the various things lying about on the rotting wood church floor, Arthur cast his gaze to the wild storm outside a window behind the altar. He hoped he’d be able to head off soon, when the storm stopped. Dutch gave him a clear and already generous amount of time to be on his own. At least he’d planned for less days than he was given so hopefully he could spare a day of being stuck and a day to go to Pike’s basin. 

He blinked, focusing again on the storm outside. He’d be giving Boadi a helluva brushing when he could eventually continue on his way-that dust was relentless. On the thought of his horse, he thought that he should check on her. She was a hardy horse, but leaving her out there in the storm gave him a bad feeling. The least he could do is spread his tent sheet on her skin. 

“Hey, I might go check on them horses out there. Fix up the bridles and things.” He stood up and stretched, shifting his satchel on his hip. 

“Better be right quick with it, boy. I ain’t going out there after ya, I’m too damn old for that.” Gonzalez picked up a piece of cloth of the floor—a reddish-brown poncho—and threw it up to him. “Use that ‘round ya head. Ain’t all that nice being whipped with that sorta storm, I know that from experience.” 

“Huh. Well thanks, I guess.” 

Arthur wrapped the poncho around his head and neck as Gonzalez had said to do. He left his hat behind in case it flew off in the wind, but otherwise he was ready enough to head to the horses’ shed. His chaps would protect his legs. 

“I’ll be back inside soon, mister. You want a carrot for your horse” 

“Yeah, yeah, thank ya kindly. Stay safe now, you hear? Like I said, I ain’t going out there.” 

Arthur only nodded and burst out the door, quickly shutting it behind him. The roar of the wind was far louder than before and it shunted him hard. He took only a moment to look where he was going, and scurried to the shed with the two horses reluctantly huddled together. The gale was a bit calmer, so he used only one arm to hold the poncho in place. 

He sidled next to Boadicea firstly, grabbing his tent and laying it across her back. With a swipe across her spine as he put it into place, he internally groaned at the dust that he felt. He tucked some of it under the front on the saddle, hoping that would be enough. In the saddlebag that he hadn’t taken before, there was a few carrots and two sticks of celery. Some twined hay sat in there too but it would waste time so he ignored it. 

The celery, he fed directly to her, while he treating the grey thoroughbred with a bit extra care. He held on carrot under his lips as he chewed solemnly, remarkably calm for a horse in a dust storm. Arthur left the other two carrots in front of the gelding—away from Boadicea—and turned around, ready to leave. He could only make a bewildered face as he saw Gonzalez grinning at him through the stained-glass window. 

After one more onceover on the horses, he jogged over and was soon back in front of the church’s door. He barged in and nearly slammed the door behind him. Dust storms + Arthur Morgan? Not a good mix, as far as he was concerned. 

He gave the poncho back with a “thanks”. 

“The horses fine, son?” 

“Yeah. Getting along well—your boy looks like he’s got a limp lip?” 

“Yep. Damn fool of a horse. I bet he wasn’t bothered with some stranger, was he? If there’s food near, he won’t care who’s givin’ it to him. Dumb as a skunk, smells like it too. He’s good though, if stubborn.” 

“I can see that.” He laughed. “Anyway, what else you got?”


	5. Trip Hiccup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New day, same goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I won’t be removing the Pike’s Basin bit, cause that part was the whole reason I wrote this lmao 
> 
> another very short chapter. i think i have a little pattern going on here and i'm not sure if i like it or not

The morning came fresh—light shone through the stained glass and it was nearly silent. Arthur woke with a stretch. Gonzalez stood by as window and sipped a steaming cup of coffee. There was steam curling out of the pot by the fire. 

“Mornin’. You gonna leave today?” 

“Yep. It’s no use staying around when I should be on my way home.” 

“I would too, it’s a damn nice day out there. If I didn’t know what happened only yesterday, then maybe I'd start liking new Austin.” He spoke with humor, but didn’t laugh. Arthur noticed the somber look on his face while he poured himself hot coffee. 

“You look like you don’t wanna leave”, Arthur asked. 

“Ah no, I'm just in an odd mood this fine morning, boy. Woke up a mite too early. Got them horses brushed though—your mare is quite the lady, I seen mustangs like her a few years ago.” 

“Yeah? Well, thank you, really. I was dreadin’ the brushing myself, if I’m honest. I’ll have to leave now, mister, gotta be home right quick.” 

Gonzalez nodded, bringing a thick cigar out his coats inside pocket. “For your trouble, boy. Rare to find someone like you n’ yer horse round New Austin.” 

Arthur smiled, “I ain’t a good man but thank you kindly. Hope I'll see you another time, mister. Be well.” He downed the rest of the coffee and shook out the extra drops, tucking it back in his satchel along with the cigar. 

“You be well, too, boy. Take care o’ that mare, she’s a fine horse.” 

And with that, Arthur strolled out the church’s heavy doors and walked straight to where Boadicea grazed. His saddle was still on her back, but the dust had been quickly swiped off it. Boadicea herself was free of the film of dirt he’d felt the day before. Smiling a little wider, he swung onto her back and pickedd up the reins. While sitting astride her round barrel, he reattached a saddle bag. 

He looked back and saw Gonzalez sitting on the church steps still with his coffee. He gave a quick wave before settling his hips into the saddle and relaxing for a long day of travel. He’d be heading through Pike’s Basin before rushing to camp after the Lower Montana. If he hurried then he’d get home at a good time. Either that or give Dutch the cigar and a big pot of money too. 

He thought about that for a second longer and ended up abandoning the idea. 

He shook his head and clucked at Boadicea. She picked up a tense trot, but she soon stretched her neck down and out the further north they got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right now, this is my most popular work. gimme some love if you care lmao


	6. Peaceful Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken so long to get this one out so enjoy i guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow updates :/ it’s been hard to make time or motivation for writing because school is a bummer

The morning came fresh—light shone through the stained glass and it was nearly silent. Arthur slowly opened his eyes and saw he was laying on a pew. He fell asleep sitting up, but he supposed his sore spine was proof that he should’ve just laid on the floor. He stood up with a stretch, seeing Gonzalez standing quietly by a window and sipping a cup of coffee. There was steam curling out of the pot by the fire. 

Gonzalez heard him waking up and turned to look at him. 

“Mornin’, Arthur. You gonna leave today?” 

“Yep. It’s no use staying around when I should be on my way home.” He drew himself on the bench and walked to the awfully hot coffee pot, pouring himself one with his own cup. 

“I would head off too, it’s a damn nice day out there. If I didn’t know what happened only yesterday, then maybe I'd start liking new Austin.” He spoke with humor, but didn’t laugh. Arthur noticed the somber look on his face while he poured himself hot coffee. 

He asked, “you look like you don’t wanna leave?” 

“Ah no, I'm just in an odd mood this fine morning, boy. Woke up a mite too early. Got them horses brushed though—your mare is quite the lady. You know, I seen mustangs like her a few years ago.” 

“Yeah? Well, thank you, really. I was dreadin’ the brushing myself, if I’m honest. I’ll have to leave now, mister, gotta be home right quick.” 

Gonzalez nodded, bringing a thick cigar out his coats inside pocket. “For your trouble, boy. Rare to find someone honest like you ‘round about Cholla Springs.” 

Arthur smiled, “Ain’t often I get a compliment that that. Thank you... Hope I'll see you another time, mister. Be well.” He downed the rest of the coffee and shook out the extra drops, tucking it back in his satchel along with the cigar. 

“You be well, too, boy. Take care o’ that mare, she’s a horse some would kill for.” He tipped his cup at him with a small smile. 

And with that, Arthur strolled out the church’s heavy doors and walked straight to where Boadicea grazed. His saddle was still on her back, but the dust had been quickly swiped off it. Boadicea herself was free of the film of dirt he’d felt the day before, with her typical greyish Fleabitten color. Smiling a little wider, he swung onto her back and picked up the reins. While sitting astride her round barrel, he reattached a saddle bag. 

He looked back and saw Gonzalez sitting on the church steps still with his coffee. He gave a quick wave before settling his hips into the saddle and relaxing for a long day of travel. He’d be heading through Pike’s Basin before rushing to camp after the Lower Montana. If he hurried then he’d get home at a good time. Either that or give Dutch the cigar and a big pot of money to make up for going over his limit. 

He thought about that for a second longer. 

Snorting at the idea, he shook his head and clucked at Boadicea. She picked up a tense trot, but she soon stretched her neck down and out the further north they got. It was peaceful, and the pronghorns brayed at him wherever he went—familiar sights around him overpowered the feeling of the oddly calm and sweaty after-storm hours. The ground, which was already far too dry, conjured up a cloud with each hoofbeat. Boadicea had a refined and collected gait, much to Arthur’s pleasure. It was a quiet day, a quiet ride, and he had a quiet mind. Perfect. 

While grateful to be in the open again, he hadn’t missed the feeling of the sun beating down on his shoulders. He removed his jacket at some point, draping it over Boadicea’s rump in some attempt to shield her, even though he knew she probably didn’t need it. The bugs were yet to emerge and he definitely wasn’t waiting for evening to roll in. While he didn’t exactly push her, he made sure Boadi wasn’t going too slow, if only to make up for lost time. 

When he settled down for the night, he could the Pike’s Basin in the near distance. The cliffs looked foreboding, like massive gates. Boadicea didn’t care whatsoever; as soon as her tack was off, she grazed the tough plants and didn’t give Arthur the time of day. He took out the old strips of dried meat and chewed them quietly. He didn’t bother with a campfire, only his bedroll, saddle and horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you dont know the awfully hot coffee pot meme.................... go search it up or sum cause im tired

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more chapter(s) but it will probably take quite a while. or not idk


End file.
